


To Be Yours

by RoseByAnyOtherName17



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Faeries - Freeform, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:41:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseByAnyOtherName17/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I kissed him," Derek said. "And then I told him it was a mistake."</p><p>Cora really did punch him then.</p><p>In which Stiles and Derek both hurt until they don't anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Yours

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I had for a long time after me and my best friend started watching the show. I hope you like it. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

Derek couldn’t remember how they got here. One second Stiles was rambling about graduation and how he’d never imagined that getting through college would be a breeze compared to high school. (“Though to be fair, Berkeley was distinctly lacking in crazy supernatural creatures that were out for my blood, at least most of the time.”) And then Derek had him pressed up against the wall with his hands on his hips and his mouth covering Stiles’ and feeling like this was what had been missing all along. 

Derek forgot for one blissful moment that he was broken beyond repair and that Stiles had enough damage in his life with Derek on top of that, until all of the thought came rushing back and he stumbled away.

Stiles looked as wrecked as Derek felt. “What was that for?” Derek shook his head, moving away. “Derek?” Stiles was pressing forward, grabbing his hand, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look. “Derek, talk to me, what’s happening?”

“Nothing,” Derek said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He couldn’t watch the hope that was brimming in Stiles’ eyes, couldn’t bear to feel how he wrapped his fingers around Derek’s arm to pull him closer. He couldn’t let himself have that, or he’d give in.

“Derek—”

“It was a mistake,” Derek said harshly, yanking his arm from Stiles’ suddenly loose grip. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“No, I think that’s the straightest you’ve been thinking since I met you,” Stiles retorted, and Derek’s eyes flew open to see him standing right there, too close to look away. “You don’t just do things, Derek, not without a reason. Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I wanted to know what it felt like,” Derek lied, his insides twisting. “You’ve been projecting all these feelings for years and I had to make sure it was just you and not me too. And it isn’t. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re lying.” But Stiles was letting go, moving back. 

Derek looked him in the eye, hating everything he was saying. “I’m sorry, Stiles. You’re not what I want. And I’m not what you want, not really. The sooner you figure that out the better it is for both of us. For the pack.”

Stiles’ expression went carefully blank, every emotion wiped away. “Okay,” he said, a tremor in his tone, a hand being pushed through his hair as he turned away. “Okay. I’m gonna—yeah. Okay.”

And then he was gone, and Derek was left standing in the middle of the loft struggling with everything he was not to call Stiles back. I’m broken, he reminded himself. Stiles doesn’t need that.

It was too hollow to believe anymore.

*

Stiles didn’t appear the next time the pack was gathered in Derek’s loft in the middle of June with the sun beating down from the sky. “He’s got a job interview at the high school,” Scott explained, but he still looked at Derek accusingly, like he knew. And Derek knew that they all did, even Kira and Lydia, who couldn’t hear how his heartbeat stuttered or sense the guilt pouring off of Derek in waves. They were oddly quiet and straightforward during their discussion of the faerie nest that had settled in the preserve, with none of the usual snark and messing around. Scott explained the situation with the nest of faeries that had settled on the preserve and their next step for negotiation. And then the pack disbanded, leaving only Isaac, who looked at Derek thoughtfully.

“Why’d you lie to him?” he asked finally.

“Because he doesn’t need me.”

“He wants you though,” Isaac said softly. “And maybe you should let him decide what it is that he needs. He chose the pack a long time ago. He chose you.”

Derek didn’t answer, and Isaac walked away.

*

It turned out that the faeries didn’t appreciate being told to leave, even in Scott’s polite way. 

“You werewolves think you’re so high and mighty,” the leader sneered. “Your territory, your rules. We just needed a place to settle. You brought this on yourselves.” She cackled when Kira sent a bolt of electricity her way, only to have it explode outward and send embers everywhere the second it struck the faerie. “Nice try dearie, but it takes a little more than that.”

As she was speaking, a bolt hit Derek in the chest, sending him flying. “No!” he heard someone yell, but he was too dazed to do anything but twitch and wait for the electricity to leave his skin. With that action, movement was sparked all around him as werewolf leapt towards faerie. He fumbled his way to his feet and watched as Isaac was thrown into a tree head first. 

He launched himself at the faerie responsible, howling as loudly as he could in the hope of disorienting her, but her hand slashed across her small body as she rocketed into the air. Gaping wounds opened up across his chest all the way down to his thigh, tearing his shirt open and sending him to his knees. She twirled a hand and it was like a noose had tightened around his neck, lifting him into the air until he couldn’t put his feet on the ground anymore. His vision was blacking out and he heard Stiles as if from underwater.

“I hope you’ve got your magnifying glasses on hand!” Something shimmered across the air and then Derek fell into the chasm opening up beneath him, letting go of everything.

*

He was pretty sure he was flying, but it was rougher than he’d ever imagined it to be as a kid. Louder, too, but he couldn’t see where all the noise was coming from. His eyes wouldn’t open enough to see anything but a pair of feet. He let his head loll onto his shoulder, drifting again.

“Call Deaton,” someone said. Scott, he thought. Why was Scott flying with Derek? He was usually on the ground, tending to his pack or letting Stiles tell him what the best way was to identify a kelpie from a red cap. “He’s not healing, he should be healing.”

Derek heard someone scream as his abdomen was lit on fire. He thought it might be himself. “There’s wolfsbane embedded in here,” Stiles said, and Derek clamped down on his voice as he rode out the flames consuming him. “He can’t heal until it’s out, maybe not even then.” He stopped speaking and Derek silently begged him to keep talking, to keep him anchored so he wouldn’t float away into the stars surrounding him, beckoning him closer. 

He thought he might have said something, made some sort of noise, because a hand was stroking through his hair and Stiles’ face came into view through half-closed eyelids, blurry and desperate. Derek wanted to tell him that everything was okay, but he couldn’t make his throat work to get the words out. “Don’t you dare die on me,” Stiles said, too loud and not loud enough all at once, and Derek wanted to grab that voice and tuck it into his chest so it would never leave. But he was pretty sure that his chest couldn’t hold anything more than the agonizing burn spreading from there to the tips of his fingers, to the ends of his toes. “You’re not dying.” Stiles apparently wasn’t finished, Derek thought dazedly, though he thought the stars might be getting closer the more he spoke. “You got me you stupid fucker? Not today. Not ever if I had my way, but not today, not like this. Not because of some stupid midget with wings.”

Derek felt his hand lift and saw fingers that might’ve been his brushing through the thick hair on Stiles’ head, but the stars were circling him and he began to drown.

*

“Any residual wolfsbane will have to be flushed out on its own. If it’s reached his heart, there might not be anything more to do.”

“How long will it take?”

“If he fights, not more than a few hours. But he’s weak as it is. This fight alone could put him down for days, maybe weeks.”

“We’ll take care of him.” Stiles, Derek thought fuzzily. “He’s going to live.”

He couldn’t hear anything after that.

*

“Nnng.”

“Hey,” Cora said softly, touching his forehead lightly. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been to hell,” Derek croaked, trying to sit up. Cora put a hand on his back and eased him up until he could swing his legs over the side of the table. He took the cup of water offered to him, sipping slowly. “How long was I out?”

“Well, this is the first time you’ve been fully awake in two days,” Lydia told him, appearing in the doorway with her typical red-lipped smirk, but Derek could see the relief in her eyes. “You were sort of delirious. Everyone was pretty worried about you.”

“Understatement of the year,” someone muttered behind him, and Derek didn’t have to turn to know that it was Isaac. The whole pack was there. Scott, Kira, even Ethan. Except…

“Where’s Stiles?”

“He went home about an hour ago,” Scott said. “He didn’t want to leave until we knew you’d be okay for sure. When Deaton said you’d pulled through, he left to do some research on those faeries. He wants to…he wants to get rid of them.”

Derek didn’t have to ask to know what that meant, and something in his chest constricted.

“I came down as soon as they called me,” Cora explained, and Derek had been wondering what she was doing there. She was supposed to be in Canada with some distant relatives of theirs. “I would’ve held both your hands, but Stiles had claim to one already.” She smirked at him, until she realized that he wasn’t smiling. That no one was smiling, and that Scott was suddenly tense. Derek could see her putting the pieces together in her head, until she was glaring at him. He was struck by how much like Laura she was, even more so when she smacked him upside the head and said, “What the hell, Derek?”

“Cora…”

“What did you do?” she demanded angrily. 

“I kissed him,” Derek muttered. Several pairs of eyebrows shot up, including Scott’s, and he realized that maybe no one had actually known about that part. It made sense that they would’ve put it together themselves. Derek couldn’t hide his emotions from the wolves, and the humans of the pack were so interwoven by now that all they had to do was look to know what was happening. 

“Alright, you kissed him,” Cora said, slightly calmer. “What’s the problem?”

“I told him it was a mistake.” Derek’s voice was so soft that he wondered how they could even hear. “And I…I told him I didn’t…I didn’t.”

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Then Scott stepped forward. “Fuck you.”

“Why the hell would you lie to him?” Lydia was the only one who didn’t look furious with him; even Cora looked like she’d punch him in the face if he hadn’t just clawed his way from the brink of death. “You guys have been dancing around each other for years, everyone’s seen it.”

“Because Stiles is amazing, okay?” Derek got to his feet, ignoring the sudden head rush and how shaky he felt. “He’s been through hell and he’s still the most human out of all of us. He never had to deal with any of this crap and he stuck around anyways. Maybe it was for Scott at first, but it became every one of us, even though at any point he could’ve said ‘fuck it’ and left. And I’m broken beyond repair. He doesn’t need to fix anyone else, especially not me, because it’d be a lost cause and I’d wind up breaking him too. I won’t do that. I won’t.”

Cora really did punch him that time. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Kira said as he regained his balance, rubbing his arm, and she had never sounded so commanding before. “You’re going to go see Stiles. You’re going to apologize to him and tell him everything you just said to us, and you’re going to do everything in your power to fix this. Because he doesn’t give a shit about any of that, Derek. He knows it all, and he wants you anyways. He has for a long time, and you have to, so swallow your self-deprecation and bury it wherever you keep all your stupid feelings and go.”

Derek was so shocked that he was walking out of what he recognized now as Deaton’s office before he realized that he had been driven here by what he thought had probably been Stiles’ jeep. Cora appeared at his side. “I’ll drive you,” she said, leaving no room for argument. He slid into the little sedan she pointed out at the end of the parking lot.

The drive was tense and silent, and she only spoke when they were on Stiles’ street. “You know Laura would’ve beat you into next week for this, right?” 

“I know,” he said quietly. 

It took more effort than usual to scale the tree next to Stiles’ window, and when he went to slide it open, he found it locked. Stiles looked up at the tentative tap and Derek heard the sigh before he stepped forward to pull it open. “You’re awake,” he said.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Derek blurted out. So much for keeping up appearances.

“Someone’s gotta figure out how to get rid of these fuckers once and for all.” Stiles wasn’t looking at him, sliding instead back into the chair next to his desk. “Throwing salt is great for a distraction, because they’re like, hard-wired to stop and count the individual grains or whatever, but they’ll be pissed eventually.”

Derek looked over his shoulder at the screen, but he wasn’t taking in anything other than the scent of Stiles rising from the other’s clothes. He closed his eyes, struggling not to just bury his face in Stiles’ neck right then and there. “I need to talk to you,” he said instead.

“Derek…” Stiles had this awful look of resignation on his face like he already knew what Derek wanted to say, and Derek rushed forward before he could stop.

“I lied before, about kissing you, okay?” He knew he sounded desperate but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “I wanted to, and have wanted to for a long time, since before it was even legal to do so. I just…I didn’t want to lose you, because I lose everyone I care about and I couldn’t do that with you. I couldn’t bear it if I made you as bad as I am, as broken.”

Stiles stood up and crossed the room, hands clasped behind his head. His heart was racing and Derek reached out to touch his shoulder. He whipped around at the light brush of fingers, fists clenched at his sides, anger and pain brimming in his eyes. “You don’t get to do this,” he ground out through his teeth. “You don’t—you don’t get to do this to me.”

“Stiles, I—”

“No! No, Derek, you’re only saying this because I spent the last two days sitting next to you while you tried not to die on the goddamn vet’s table. You’re feeling things right now because I just did all that, like I have a million times and because I’d do it a million times more, and you’re mixed up and confused because of everything that happened a few weeks ago!” Derek opened his mouth but Stiles plowed right over him. “In a few days, you’ll be back to normal, your head will be clear, and you’ll realize that it was a trick of the light, just an illusion cast by the fact that I care way too much about you, that even after you told me kissing me was a mistake I still refused to leave. And we’ll be right back where we were before, with you looking at me like you want to keep me and me wishing it was in the way I wanted to be kept. And I can’t…I can’t do that Derek. I can’t hope that maybe you’ve changed your mind, that you lied before, and have you come back around and tell me you were wrong. I’m not going to do that to myself. I’m not going to trick myself into thinking you need me too, because I did that once with Lydia, and then Malia, and I was wrong both times. I learned my lesson.”

“Stiles, please,” Derek whispered. It was like he was falling into the black all over again, but this time he was wide awake and could feel every word Stiles threw at him like weapons. 

“I need you to leave.” Stiles wasn’t looking at him anymore. “Please.”

“Don’t—”

“I’ll be at the next pack meeting. I’ll see you then. Just right now, please leave me alone.”

Derek left him alone.

*

Stiles hadn’t lied. He was at every pack meeting, wedged onto the couch between Lydia and Ethan, taking notes or explaining the best way to come at certain creatures they’d seen before in Beacon Hills and had reason to believe they’d come back. He led the attack against the faeries, circling them in mountain ash and then lighting them up. Derek hated the steel in his eyes when Stiles watched them burn. There wasn’t a hint of guilt, which scared Derek more than he cared to admit.

But the pack knew anyways. Cora tore it out of him the night before she went back home, the words that Stiles had said, the pain there. “He’ll come around,” she said softly, but he didn’t believe her. It was hard to when she sounded like she didn’t believe herself.

So Stiles continued to squeeze himself between other people at meetings and movie nights, as far away from Derek as he could get, and he never met Derek’s eyes. Even when he was the one watching.

Derek was sinking deeper and deeper into himself, until he hardly spoke anymore. He did as Scott said if they were taking on another pack or supernatural creature. He let the pack take over his loft whenever they felt like it, always noting Stiles’ absence like a knife. He nodded congratulations when Stiles revealed that he would be teaching at Beacon Hills High next semester. Everyone else laughed hysterically when he told them the subject (Mythology and the Supernatural Elements), but Derek only smiled softly at him. Stiles met his smile with a bright one of his own, until he seemed to remember that day in his bedroom and his eyes slid away, face falling back into careful cheer with the rest of the pack.

He couldn’t stand it. He wanted to force Stiles to sit and listen to him until he couldn’t do anything but believe in what Derek was saying. He wanted to press his face into Stiles’ neck and curl up around him until the scents of them mixed together so that they couldn’t be told apart. Derek wanted to crawl inside of Stiles and make a home there, even more than he already had, because he hadn’t known it then. He wanted Stiles to know that he wanted to be there, that he wouldn’t leave. 

But Stiles wouldn’t return his smiles. He flinched away every time Derek reached out to touch his shoulder, or stood close enough for their bodies to brush together, and it felt like a knife to the gut every time he put space between them. Derek felt like he was screaming on the inside, over and over, that this wasn’t right, that they weren’t meant to fall apart before they’d even come together. 

“What’re you going to do?” Scott asked quietly one night as he helped Derek clean up the usual mess left behind in his loft after a meeting. 

“I don’t know what else I can do,” Derek admitted. “He didn’t believe me.”

“It’s been weeks,” Scott pointed out. “He thought it was just a thankful, ‘you saved me’ thing, right? Maybe if you try again, he’ll believe you. He has to believe you.” He bit his lip. “He’s breaking. You both are.”

“He’s the first out the door every meeting.” Derek scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. “He won’t even look at me, Scott, and when he does it’s like his entire face just shuts down. He doesn’t want to listen. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near me, and I can’t blame him.”

Scott put a hand on his back, tapping lightly with his fingers. “Leave that to me,” he said. “I might be able to do something about that.”

Derek scoffed. “Right.”

Scott grinned at him. “I am the alpha, aren’t I? And Stiles’ best friend. That gives me a few advantages.”

*

Scott insisted the pack drive out to the lake one day in the middle of July. “We need a break,” he insisted.

“I thought movie nights were breaks,” Ethan said, frowning.

Scott raised an eyebrow in challenge and there weren’t any more protests after that. 

Rather than drive, they met at the edge of the preserve at eight in the morning to hike out instead. Everyone but Scott and Lydia looked like they’d waited until the last possible moment to crawl out of bed and get ready. Even Derek was glaring at Scott in the way that would’ve had everyone scrambling away once upon a time. He hadn’t been sleeping more than a few hours a night since…well, since he’d kissed Stiles. From the look of him, Stiles looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well either. 

Derek wondered if they’d both sleep better if they slept wrapped in the same covers. 

Wrapped in each other.

Scott cleared his throat when Ethan arrived, dragging a confused looking Danny behind him. “So…let’s go.”

They started out as a jumbled mass of sleep deprived bodies that kept staggering into each other with muttered apologies and a lot of rolling eyes, but eventually they evened out, with Scott and Kira leading the way and Derek at the back with Lydia, of all people. She kept looking sideways at him and then to Stiles, who trudged along with his hands in his pockets a few feet behind Ethan and Danny, focusing on the ground so he wouldn’t trip himself up. It was so endearing to Derek that he had to look elsewhere.

“He misses you,” Lydia said, quietly enough that Stiles wouldn’t be able to hear. “None of us ever noticed how much time he spent with you until he wasn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek said in the same low tone. “I messed everything up.”

Lydia smiled softly. “I’m not so sure about that.”

The moment they reached the lake, Isaac whipped of his shirt and raced onto the fishing dock looming over the water. Derek couldn’t stop the laugh when he dived with a shout of enthusiasm, only to surface with a loud, “It’s motherfucking cold!”

Everyone else was more willing to lay out towels and wait for the sun to get a little higher in the sky. Scott passed around egg and bacon sandwiches that he and his mom made that morning, along with muffins he’d picked up on his way there. To Derek’s surprise, Stiles settled next to him with a huff. “Top or bottom?” he asked, indicating the muffin. He knew the answer, Derek knew that he did, but he answered, “Bottom,” anyway and smiled to himself when Stiles didn’t move away, just ate the top of the muffin in silence, following it with one of the sandwiches. Derek felt some of the tension in his back fall away, until he was slumped back against a small boulder behind him, head tilted back and eyes closed. Stiles didn’t move for a long time, even when Scott and Danny tried to get him to swim with them. “Later,” he said, and when Derek cracked one eye open, Scott was smirking at him like he knew that warmth was spreading from Derek’s chest down to his toes.

They didn’t talk. Derek was afraid of breaking this thing that was settling between them, this tentative peace, and Stiles didn’t look like he had anything to say. After awhile, when Derek looked at him again, it was to find Stiles stretched out on the ground, sound asleep. He had to resist touching him, but he slowly moved so that Stiles’ shoulder was pressed to his thigh, and his hair brushed Derek’s hip. 

It was past noon when Stiles woke again, and by then Derek had joined Isaac and the others in the water, struggling not to let his eyes stray to the soft rise and fall of Stiles’ chest. He had to look away completely when Stiles stripped off his shirt and, instead of just diving in like the rest, chose to walk in so that the water gradually rose up his body. It was too much, after over a month of near-silence between them. 

He was distracted when Kira shrieked as Scott dragged her underwater, only to come up again and playfully pull her further from shore. Derek watched him press a soft kiss to her forehead even as she smacked him in the chest, laughing. 

The sun was falling behind the trees before they left the lake to wrap up in towels and pack up the remaining food into their backpacks. “We’re not gonna make it back before sundown,” Scott warned everyone, a little nervous.

“We can stay at the house for the night,” Derek suggested. “I’ve got some clothes stashed there, and I can make dinner.”

“I call a bed,” Lydia said immediately, to no one’s surprise. Stiles caught Derek’s eye for a moment and grinned. Derek saw the second that Stiles realized what he was doing, but the smile didn’t leave his face, and he didn’t move away, though there was stiffness to his shoulders now. 

Three hours later and the entire pack was crashed out, full of food and wearing various combinations of each other’s clothing that had gathered there over the years. Derek lay in his own bed at the top of the stairs, lazily gazing out the window, when the faint sound of the front door opening and shutting drew his attention. Derek was pulling on a shirt and padding downstairs in an instant. When he opened the front door, Stiles was sitting at the bottom of the steps, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his bare feet resting on the grass.

He looked up at Derek in surprise. “I didn’t think anyone else was still awake.”

Derek sat a few steps above him. “I can’t really sleep out here. I like listening to the woods instead.”

“I know,” Stiles said, smiling slightly. “You told me before.”

Derek let silence settle over them, closing his eyes and breathing in Stiles’ scent. He’d almost forgotten how easy it was to sink into it, just let Stiles wind around him until he couldn’t smell anything else.

Almost without thinking, he moved down until he was just above Stiles, his knee brushing against Stiles’ forearm. His heartbeat picked up when Stiles relaxed against him, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder and closing his eyes. “Sorry about the last few weeks,” Stiles said softly. “I didn’t know what to say to you.” He sighed. “Lydia said I’ve been an idiot.”

“To be fair, they all told me I was an idiot,” Derek said, laughing quietly. “Cora punched me.”

“It wasn’t your fault though.” Stiles looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who read into things too much.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him and very deliberately stood up, pulling Stiles to his feet too. He put a hand on Stiles’ hip and tilted Stiles head with the other, and pushed his nose into the spot behind Stiles’ ear. He felt Stiles’ pulse flutter and then begin racing. “Derek?” he whispered. 

A hand came up to hold Derek’s forearm and he pushed closer. When he felt fingers slipping under his shirt and ghosting over his skin, he shuddered, his entire body going lax so that Stiles was supporting most of their combined weight.

Stiles was breathing fast and shallow, his chest moving against Derek’s with every inhale. His hand wrapped around Derek’s hip, pulling him forward until every inch of them was pressed together tightly. Derek opened his mouth and kissed the skin just under Stiles’ jaw. 

“Derek,” Stiles breathed, and his entire body was shaking. “Derek.” He nudged Derek’s cheek with his nose until Derek pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “What do you want?” he asked, eyes darting from Derek’s eyes to his mouth and back again, like he couldn’t settle on just one place he wanted to look.

“To be yours,” Derek said desperately, leaning his forehead against Stiles’. “Please.” He felt like he was trying to claw his way out of his own skin and into Stiles. 

“Okay.” Stiles’ voice was hoarse. “Okay. Okay.” His lips brushed Derek’s and he swallowed the words, kissing Stiles so hard that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but hang on.

He became distantly aware that Stiles was pushing him backwards, breaking away to urge him up the front porch steps and into the house. Derek was clutching at every bit of skin he could reach, letting Stiles guide them upstairs and into Derek’s room. He pulled Derek back against him when he shut the door, winding his fingers through his hair and mouthing along his jaw. Derek groaned. “Stiles.”

Stiles shoved him back, keeping so close that he almost tripped over Derek’s feet, until he had Derek pressed back into the bed with a hand on his chest. Derek let him slow down, let him kiss him so deeply that Derek’s toes curled, and then Stiles was pulling away to look at him again.

“Okay,” he gasped. “Okay, but see, if you’re going to be mine, then I’m going to be yours too. I’ve been in love with you for the last five years and I’m too fucking deep to be the only possessive one here. I don’t need you to say you love me too, I just need to be yours just as much as you’re mine.”

Derek whined, hauling Stiles in with a hand on the back of his neck so he could kiss him again and whisper, “Mine,” against his lips, his cheek, his neck, until he could roll over and press Stiles back, open him up and make a home in Stiles like he’d wanted to for so long it hurt. 

*

“Mine,” Derek murmured later, face pressed into Stiles’ hair.

“Yours,” Stiles whispered back.


End file.
